In the last four weeks, I’ve gained over a 100,000 Instagram followers because I read out some idiotic jokes that tickled me.
I’ve always loved stupid, punny, Dad-jokes and I’ve always cackled away at them. It was fun to share something…well, fun. Superficially silly. Something light and joyful.
If you’ve been a follower of mine on Instagram or Kimfluencing My Brain for a while, you may have noticed that things can get heavy. I joined Instagram at the lowest point in my life. I had nothing to lose and nothing to gain. I started to share, be honest and show what having an actual living, breathing postnatal mental health disorder and it’s recovery looked like. It’s not just a leaflet. It’s a heart-wrenching, soul-destroying black mass that took over my life for close to 3 years and is still something that I deal with to this day.
Since my son was born, there hasn’t been a single day that “it” hasn’t been circulating my brain - obviously to varying degrees. We’ve gone from ‘all-consuming’ to ‘passing thoughts’. A blessed state I never thought I could achieve when I was back in those haunting, psychological trenches. I’d lost my mind - or so I thought - and in doing so, completely and utterly, lost myself.
I was without hope. For such a long time. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. I can’t emphasise this enough, you take hope from a person, you remove their will to live. It’s like breathing without air but you don’t die. You just keep suffering.
Like I said, pretty heavy stuff. So when I rapidly gained a lot of new people following me because I told some ridiculous jokes and laughed at them - instead of the slow-burn of gathering followers due to perinatal mental health awareness or my acting career; it did things.
One, it confirmed to me just how fickle the whole system is. You can scream for help in a crowded room and no-one looks up. You can fall over slapstick-style and suddenly you’re the centre of attention.
Secondly, I had to get people on-line to see me as a person. Not just a meme. It’s my Instagram page - run by me - if people comment or message me, I see it. The new influx of people didn’t know me or my story and some treated me like I wasn’t a real human being. I had to stand up for myself. That was good practice for me. I haven’t been very good at that in the past but I’ve been through too much to let a keyboard warrior talk about me in a derogatory way without at least challenging it.
The third was that it reminded me I’m more than just what happened to me. Having people, from all over the world, approach me with no knowledge or understanding of that dark time is refreshing and frustrating in equal measure. But it reminded me that it’s not all I am. It’s not all I’ll ever be. We aren’t all just one thing and even when we feel that we are, we’re not that indefinitely.
We’re moving, evolving, adaptable entities and sometimes that means you pass through a tragic or disastrous period and sometimes it leads to true wonder and magic.
I want to move on from what “happened to me” and I think there are two ways of doing that.
The first is that I get to define what that experience turned me into. I didn’t get a lot of say back then, or at least I truly believed I didn’t, so now I decide how I react to things outside of my control. And good God, is that one hell of a painful and unrelenting learning curve - but so worth it.
The small fragment of agency I have is that I can be more than one thing at a time. I can be recovering and recovered simultaneously. I can be struggling with my brain and be ‘better’ at the same time. We like to label things and put people into boxes. Realising that not only will I never really fit the mould but that I don’t want to, is so freeing.
It’s hard to be different.
I went to a social event last night and I felt so out of place. No matter how I behave, I beat myself up. Either I retreat and stick to the sides of the room and don’t say much or I go completely the other way and try to get “involved” and then overshare.
But being different is also my superpower. I’m not like other people. I’m certainly not like many other people in my industry and sometimes that hurts. It’s a dull pain but it’s always there. However, I’m finally beginning to see it as a positive. An asset. I see the world slightly differently. Almost like the world is at an odd angle. A few degrees off centre. But maybe that difference is what I have to offer.
Maybe.
After living with OCD for so long, living in the maybe is a refreshingly great place to be.
But before I go, my next door neighbour knocked my door and said “I’m so sorry - I’ve run over your cat. I’d like to replace it”…
”I said “Alright but how are you with catching mice?”.
You’re welcome.
Your recovery journey is so encouraging. You're a powerhouse. I hate the word journey.
I've said it before, and I'll keep saying it - your honesty is so refreshing and empowering, not just to you, but to your followers as well. If doing the jokes helps increase your followers (and it obviously has), thats more people you can get the OCD and mental health message across to. When I first started following you, it was still at a bleak time in your life. It has been my privilege through the insta and podcasts to follow your improvements over the past couple of years, and I hope to watch you continue to improve. All my best wishes, Clive